15

Tarzan, the Jewels of Opar

by Edgar R. Burroughs

15, TARZAN, THE JEWELS OF OPAR by Edgar R. Burroughs
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The Flight of Werper


After Werper had arranged the dummy in his bed, and
sneaked out into the darkness of the village beneath
the rear wall of his tent, he had gone directly to the
hut in which Jane Clayton was held captive.

Before the doorway squatted a black sentry. Werper
approached him boldly, spoke a few words in his ear,
handed him a package of tobacco, and passed into the
hut. The black grinned and winked as the European
disappeared within the darkness of the interior.

The Belgian, being one of Achmet Zek's principal
lieutenants, might naturally go where he wished within
or without the village, and so the sentry had not
questioned his right to enter the hut with the white,
woman prisoner.

Within, Werper called in French and in a low whisper:
"Lady Greystoke! It is I, M. Frecoult. Where are you?"
But there was no response. Hastily the man felt around
the interior, groping blindly through the darkness with
outstretched hands. There was no one within!

Werper's astonishment surpassed words. He was on the
point of stepping without to question the sentry, when
his eyes, becoming accustomed to the dark, discovered a
blotch of lesser blackness near the base of the rear
wall of the hut. Examination revealed the fact that the
blotch was an opening cut in the wall. It was large
enough to permit the passage of his body, and assured
as he was that Lady Greystoke had passed out through
the aperture in an attempt to escape the village, he
lost no time in availing himself of the same avenue;
but neither did he lose time in a fruitless search for
Jane Clayton.

His own life depended upon the chance of his eluding,
or outdistancing Achmet Zek, when that worthy should
have discovered that he had escaped. His original plan
had contemplated connivance in the escape of Lady
Greystoke for two very good and sufficient reasons.
The first was that by saving her he would win the
gratitude of the English, and thus lessen the chance of
his extradition should his identity and his crime
against his superior officer be charged against him.

The second reason was based upon the fact that only one
direction of escape was safely open to him. He could
not travel to the west because of the Belgian
possessions which lay between him and the Atlantic.
The south was closed to him by the feared presence of
the savage ape-man he had robbed. To the north lay the
friends and allies of Achmet Zek. Only toward the
east, through British East Africa, lay reasonable
assurance of freedom.

Accompanied by a titled Englishwoman whom he had
rescued from a frightful fate, and his identity vouched
for by her as that of a Frenchman by the name of
Frecoult, he had looked forward, and not without
reason, to the active assistance of the British from
the moment that he came in contact with their first
outpost.

But now that Lady Greystoke had disappeared, though he
still looked toward the east for hope, his chances were
lessened, and another, subsidiary design completely
dashed. From the moment that he had first laid eyes
upon Jane Clayton he had nursed within his breast a
secret passion for the beautiful American wife of the
English lord, and when Achmet Zek's discovery of the
jewels had necessitated flight, the Belgian had
dreamed, in his planning, of a future in which he might
convince Lady Greystoke that her husband was dead,
and by playing upon her gratitude win her for himself.

At that part of the village farthest from the gates,
Werper discovered that two or three long poles, taken
from a nearby pile which had been collected for the
construction of huts, had been leaned against the top
of the palisade, forming a precarious, though not
impossible avenue of escape.

Rightly, he inferred that thus had Lady Greystoke found
the means to scale the wall, nor did he lose even a
moment in following her lead. Once in the jungle he
struck out directly eastward.

A few miles south of him, Jane Clayton lay panting
among the branches of a tree in which she had taken
refuge from a prowling and hungry lioness.

Her escape from the village had been much easier than
she had anticipated. The knife which she had used to
cut her way through the brush wall of the hut to
freedom she had found sticking in the wall of her
prison, doubtless left there by accident when a former
tenant had vacated the premises.

To cross the rear of the village, keeping always in the
densest shadows, had required but a few moments, and
the fortunate circumstance of the discovery of the hut
poles lying so near the palisade had solved for her the
problem of the passage of the high wall.

For an hour she had followed the old game trail toward
the south, until there fell upon her trained hearing
the stealthy padding of a stalking beast behind her.
The nearest tree gave her instant sanctuary, for she
was too wise in the ways of the jungle to chance her
safety for a moment after discovering that she was
being hunted.

Werper, with better success, traveled slowly onward
until dawn, when, to his chagrin, he discovered a
mounted Arab upon his trail. It was one of Achmet
Zek's minions, many of whom were scattered in all
directions through the forest, searching for the
fugitive Belgian.

Jane Clayton's escape had not yet been discovered when
Achmet Zek and his searchers set forth to overhaul
Werper. The only man who had seen the Belgian after his
departure from his tent was the black sentry before the
doorway of Lady Greystoke's prison hut, and he had been
silenced by the discovery of the dead body of the man
who had relieved him, the sentry that Mugambi had
dispatched.

The bribe taker naturally inferred that Werper had
slain his fellow and dared not admit that he had
permitted him to enter the hut, fearing as he did,
the anger of Achmet Zek. So, as chance directed that he
should be the one to discover the body of the sentry
when the first alarm had been given following Achmet
Zek's discovery that Werper had outwitted him, the
crafty black had dragged the dead body to the interior
of a nearby tent, and himself resumed his station
before the doorway of the hut in which he still
believed the woman to be.

With the discovery of the Arab close behind him, the
Belgian hid in the foliage of a leafy bush. Here the
trail ran straight for a considerable distance, and
down the shady forest aisle, beneath the overarching
branches of the trees, rode the white-robed figure of
the pursuer.

Nearer and nearer he came. Werper crouched closer to
the ground behind the leaves of his hiding place.
Across the trail a vine moved. Werper's eyes instantly
centered upon the spot. There was no wind to stir the
foliage in the depths of the jungle. Again the vine
moved. In the mind of the Belgian only the presence of
a sinister and malevolent force could account for the
phenomenon.

The man's eyes bored steadily into the screen of leaves
upon the opposite side of the trail. Gradually a form
took shape beyond them--a tawny form, grim and
terrible, with yellow-green eyes glaring fearsomely
across the narrow trail straight into his.

Werper could have screamed in fright, but up the trail
was coming the messenger of another death, equally sure
and no less terrible. He remained silent, almost
paralyzed by fear. The Arab approached. Across the
trail from Werper the lion crouched for the spring,
when suddenly his attention was attracted toward the
horseman.

The Belgian saw the massive head turn in the direction
of the raider and his heart all but ceased its beating
as he awaited the result of this interruption. At a
walk the horseman approached. Would the nervous animal
he rode take fright at the odor of the carnivore, and,
bolting, leave Werper still to the mercies of the king
of beasts?

But he seemed unmindful of the near presence of the
great cat. On he came, his neck arched, champing at
the bit between his teeth. The Belgian turned his eyes
again toward the lion. The beast's whole attention now
seemed riveted upon the horseman. They were abreast
the lion now, and still the brute did not spring.
Could he be but waiting for them to pass before
returning his attention to the original prey? Werper
shuddered and half rose. At the same instant the lion
sprang from his place of concealment, full upon the
mounted man. The horse, with a shrill neigh of terror,
shrank sideways almost upon the Belgian, the lion
dragged the helpless Arab from his saddle, and the
horse leaped back into the trail and fled away toward
the west.

But he did not flee alone. As the frightened beast had
pressed in upon him, Werper had not been slow to note
the quickly emptied saddle and the opportunity it
presented. Scarcely had the lion dragged the Arab down
from one side, than the Belgian, seizing the pommel of
the saddle and the horse's mane, leaped upon the
horse's back from the other.

A half hour later a naked giant, swinging easily
through the lower branches of the trees, paused, and
with raised head, and dilating nostrils sniffed the
morning air. The smell of blood fell strong upon his
senses, and mingled with it was the scent of Numa, the
lion. The giant cocked his head upon one side and
listened.

From a short distance up the trail came the
unmistakable noises of the greedy feeding of a lion.
The crunching of bones, the gulping of great pieces,
the contented growling, all attested the nearness of
the king at table.

Tarzan approached the spot, still keeping to the
branches of the trees. He made no effort to conceal
his approach, and presently he had evidence that Numa
had heard him, from the ominous, rumbling warning that
broke from a thicket beside the trail.

Halting upon a low branch just above the lion Tarzan
looked down upon the grisly scene. Could this
unrecognizable thing be the man he had been trailing?
The ape-man wondered. From time to time he had
descended to the trail and verified his judgment by the
evidence of his scent that the Belgian had followed
this game trail toward the east.

Now he proceeded beyond the lion and his feast,
again descended and examined the ground with his nose.
There was no scent spoor here of the man he had been
trailing. Tarzan returned to the tree. With keen eyes
he searched the ground about the mutilated corpse for a
sign of the missing pouch of pretty pebbles; but naught
could he see of it.

He scolded Numa and tried to drive the great beast
away; but only angry growls rewarded his efforts.
He tore small branches from a nearby limb and hurled them
at his ancient enemy. Numa looked up with bared fangs,
grinning hideously, but he did not rise from his kill.

Then Tarzan fitted an arrow to his bow, and drawing the
slim shaft far back let drive with all the force of the
tough wood that only he could bend. As the arrow sank
deeply into his side, Numa leaped to his feet with a
roar of mingled rage and pain. He leaped futilely at
the grinning ape-man, tore at the protruding end of the
shaft, and then, springing into the trail, paced back
and forth beneath his tormentor. Again Tarzan loosed a
swift bolt. This time the missile, aimed with care,
lodged in the lion's spine. The great creature halted
in its tracks, and lurched awkwardly forward upon its
face, paralyzed.

Tarzan dropped to the trail, ran quickly to the beast's
side, and drove his spear deep into the fierce heart,
then after recovering his arrows turned his attention
to the mutilated remains of the animal's prey in the
nearby thicket.

The face was gone. The Arab garments aroused no doubt
as to the man's identity, since he had trailed him into
the Arab camp and out again, where he might easily have
acquired the apparel. So sure was Tarzan that the body
was that of he who had robbed him that he made no
effort to verify his deductions by scent among the
conglomerate odors of the great carnivore and the fresh
blood of the victim.

He confined his attentions to a careful search for the
pouch, but nowhere upon or about the corpse was any
sign of the missing article or its contents. The ape-man
was disappointed--possibly not so much because of
the loss of the colored pebbles as with Numa for
robbing him of the pleasures of revenge.

Wondering what could have become of his possessions,
the ape-man turned slowly back along the trail in the
direction from which he had come. In his mind he
revolved a plan to enter and search the Arab camp,
after darkness had again fallen. Taking to the trees,
he moved directly south in search of prey, that he
might satisfy his hunger before midday, and then lie up
for the afternoon in some spot far from the camp, where
he might sleep without fear of discovery until it came
time to prosecute his design.

Scarcely had he quitted the trail when a tall, black
warrior, moving at a dogged trot, passed toward the
east. It was Mugambi, searching for his mistress.
He continued along the trail, halting to examine the body
of the dead lion. An expression of puzzlement crossed
his features as he bent to search for the wounds which
had caused the death of the jungle lord. Tarzan had
removed his arrows, but to Mugambi the proof of death
was as strong as though both the lighter missiles and
the spear still protruded from the carcass.

The black looked furtively about him. The body was
still warm, and from this fact he reasoned that the
killer was close at hand, yet no sign of living man
appeared. Mugambi shook his head, and continued along
the trail, but with redoubled caution.

All day he traveled, stopping occasionally to call
aloud the single word, "Lady," in the hope that at last
she might hear and respond; but in the end his loyal
devotion brought him to disaster.

From the northeast, for several months, Abdul Mourak,
in command of a detachment of Abyssinian soldiers, had
been assiduously searching for the Arab raider, Achmet
Zek, who, six months previously, had affronted the
majesty of Abdul Mourak's emperor by conducting a slave
raid within the boundaries of Menelek's domain.

And now it happened that Abdul Mourak had halted for a
short rest at noon upon this very day and along the
same trail that Werper and Mugambi were following
toward the east.

It was shortly after the soldiers had dismounted that
the Belgian, unaware of their presence, rode his tired
mount almost into their midst, before he had discovered
them. Instantly he was surrounded, and a volley of
questions hurled at him, as he was pulled from his
horse and led toward the presence of the commander.

Falling back upon his European nationality, Werper
assured Abdul Mourak that he was a Frenchman, hunting
in Africa, and that he had been attacked by strangers,
his safari killed or scattered, and himself escaping
only by a miracle.

From a chance remark of the Abyssinian, Werper
discovered the purpose of the expedition, and when he
realized that these men were the enemies of Achmet Zek,
he took heart, and immediately blamed his predicament
upon the Arab.

Lest, however, he might again fall into the hands of
the raider, he discouraged Abdul Mourak in the further
prosecution of his pursuit, assuring the Abyssinian
that Achmet Zek commanded a large and dangerous force,
and also that he was marching rapidly toward the south.

Convinced that it would take a long time to overhaul
the raider, and that the chances of engagement made the
outcome extremely questionable, Mourak, none too
unwillingly, abandoned his plan and gave the necessary
orders for his command to pitch camp where they were,
preparatory to taking up the return march toward
Abyssinia the following morning.

It was late in the afternoon that the attention of the
camp was attracted toward the west by the sound of a
powerful voice calling a single word, repeated several
times: "Lady! Lady! Lady!"

True to their instincts of precaution, a number of
Abyssinians, acting under orders from Abdul Mourak,
advanced stealthily through the jungle toward the
author of the call.

A half hour later they returned, dragging Mugambi among
them. The first person the big black's eyes fell upon
as he was hustled into the presence of the Abyssinian
officer, was M. Jules Frecoult, the Frenchman who had
been the guest of his master and whom he last had seen
entering the village of Achmet Zek under circumstances
which pointed to his familiarity and friendship for the
raiders.

Between the disasters that had befallen his master and
his master's house, and the Frenchman, Mugambi saw a
sinister relationship, which kept him from recalling to
Werper's attention the identity which the latter
evidently failed to recognize.

Pleading that he was but a harmless hunter from a tribe
farther south, Mugambi begged to be allowed to go upon
his way; but Abdul Mourak, admiring the warrior's
splendid physique, decided to take him back to Adis
Abeba and present him to Menelek. A few moments later
Mugambi and Werper were marched away under guard, and
the Belgian learned for the first time, that he too was
a prisoner rather than a guest. In vain he protested
against such treatment, until a strapping soldier
struck him across the mouth and threatened to shoot him
if he did not desist.

Mugambi took the matter less to heart, for he had not
the slightest doubt but that during the course of the
journey he would find ample opportunity to elude the
vigilance of his guards and make good his escape.
With this idea always uppermost in his mind, he courted
the good opinion of the Abyssinians, asked them many
questions about their emperor and their country, and
evinced a growing desire to reach their destination,
that he might enjoy all the good things which they
assured him the city of Adis Abeba contained. Thus he
disarmed their suspicions, and each day found a slight
relaxation of their watchfulness over him.

By taking advantage of the fact that he and Werper
always were kept together, Mugambi sought to learn what
the other knew of the whereabouts of Tarzan, or the
authorship of the raid upon the bungalow, as well as
the fate of Lady Greystoke; but as he was confined to
the accidents of conversation for this information, not
daring to acquaint Werper with his true identity, and
as Werper was equally anxious to conceal from the world
his part in the destruction of his host's home and
happiness, Mugambi learned nothing--at least in this way.

But there came a time when he learned a very surprising
thing, by accident.

The party had camped early in the afternoon of a sultry
day, upon the banks of a clear and beautiful stream.
The bottom of the river was gravelly, there was no
indication of crocodiles, those menaces to promiscuous
bathing in the rivers of certain portions of the dark
continent, and so the Abyssinians took advantage of the
opportunity to perform long-deferred, and much needed,
ablutions.

As Werper, who, with Mugambi, had been given permission
to enter the water, removed his clothing, the black
noted the care with which he unfastened something which
circled his waist, and which he took off with his
shirt, keeping the latter always around and concealing
the object of his suspicious solicitude.

It was this very carefulness which attracted the
black's attention to the thing, arousing a natural
curiosity in the warrior's mind, and so it chanced that
when the Belgian, in the nervousness of overcaution,
fumbled the hidden article and dropped it, Mugambi saw
it as it fell upon the ground, spilling a portion of
its contents on the sward.

Now Mugambi had been to London with his master.
He was not the unsophisticated savage that his apparel
proclaimed him. He had mingled with the cosmopolitan
hordes of the greatest city in the world; he had
visited museums and inspected shop windows; and,
besides, he was a shrewd and intelligent man.

The instant that the jewels of Opar rolled,
scintillating, before his astonished eyes, he
recognized them for what they were; but he recognized
something else, too, that interested him far more
deeply than the value of the stones. A thousand times
he had seen the leathern pouch which dangled at his
master's side, when Tarzan of the Apes had, in a spirit
of play and adventure, elected to return for a few
hours to the primitive manners and customs of his
boyhood, and surrounded by his naked warriors hunt the
lion and the leopard, the buffalo and the elephant
after the manner he loved best.

Werper saw that Mugambi had seen the pouch and the
stones. Hastily he gathered up the precious gems and
returned them to their container, while Mugambi,
assuming an air of indifference, strolled down to the
river for his bath.

The following morning Abdul Mourak was enraged and
chagrined to discover that this huge, black prisoner
had escaped during the night, while Werper was
terrified for the same reason, until his trembling
fingers discovered the pouch still in its place beneath
his shirt, and within it the hard outlines of its
contents.